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Cicirossi
Joss Whedon is God and owns all. It's still his world, although we like to sneak in the side door and cover Xander with chocolate sauce and whipped cream when no one's looking.
"Oh."
"Yeah. So maybe we ought to think about holding off a bit on the shagging, because if it's not the spell, well then, I've gone completely 'round the bend, right? And if I'm insane I might be dangerous."
Shaking off his befuddlement, Xander deliberately stepped forward and rubbed his naked form against Spike's clothed one. The soft t-shirt Spike wore made a good towel for the water droplets still dotting his skin. Felt good too. "I don't want to think about it, Spike. I just want to fuck."
How come he never knew how much fun it would be to turn the tables on Spike? To be the taker of advantage, not the takee. Spike looked like a cartoon character, all bulging eyes and dropped jaw. This time it was Spike who backed away and Xander that prowled after him, and it was just too damned much fun.
"Pet, we can't. You'll go all sleepy again, and then where will you be?"
Hitting the bathroom wall stopped Spike in mid-backpedal and Xander pressed up against him, nuzzling his neck. "Asleep. For at least eight hours. Maybe more. So you can have blood without the eww from me, and the girls can get a line on who's doing this, and you can come up with a way to convince me that you aren't sleeping with me because you like me. Come on, Spike. You were the one pushing me before, sucking me, riding me. Don't you want to do it again?"
"Yes?" Woo-hoo, go Xander, you made Spike squeak, he thought. "But I can't. Wouldn't be right. It was okay when I was doing it just because you were so easy. Now I like it a bit too much, thank you. That's always trouble." A mighty shove from Spike sent Xander reeling away, and once again he slipped on wet tile. This time Xander didn't even have time to cry out, he just went whoosh, and he tried really hard not to think about the sound his head was going to make when it connected with the sink.
He flailed. Spike lunged. They hit the floor together, with Spike somehow twisting so that he was on the bottom. There was a tremendous smack as something hit the sink, but it wasn't Xander's head. It was Spike's hand, which was cupped protectively around Xander's skull. Every bit of breath in Xander's lungs whooshed out, and Spike made this really odd grunting noise, and they both just stayed there. Stunned. While Xander whooped for air, Spike cursed. Fluently. Inventively. And just about that time there was a knock on the front door. Cursing even more loudly, Spike climbed to his feet, politely not sticking sharp knees and elbows in Xander's tender spots, and went to answer the door. So much for the grand seduction.
When Spike came back from the living room, Xander was still there on the floor, mournfully contemplating the ceiling. "What was that?" he asked.
"Blood delivery."
"Oh. Goody."
"Come on, luv. Get up."
"Nope. Gonna stay here. Eventually the tub will overflow and the bathroom will flood and I'll drown. Yeah, and then the dastardly scheme of whoever made me want to screw Spike's brains out will be thwarted. I love that word. Thwart. And Buffy and Willow. They'll be sorry. And they'll miss me. And they'll make your unlife miserable because you wouldn't make the beast with two backs with me so I didn't drown myself. And because when I did drown, you couldn't give me mouth to mouth. So there."
Spike's face appeared upside down over his, all wide blue eyes and framed by hair that stood up in agitated tufts. "You did hit your head, didn't you? Thought I caught you in time. It's not fair that I'm going to take the blame for this."
"Shut up and help me up, Spike."
Once on his feet, Xander reached into the bathtub and turned off the shower. "I need to get some clothes on. And I need more chocolate."
"Why?"
"The clothes or the chocolate?"
Whenever Xander got to thinking that Spike was just too human to be a vamp Spike would do something like growl. Like he just did, sounding like a big cat or something. Not human there, nope. "The chocolate, pet." Said in an infinitely patient and patently false tone.
"In words of one syllable? It hurts. No Spike, more hurt. Eat more. No more hurt. Got it?"
With a martyred sigh, Spike started stripping off his clothes. "You only have so much left. You should at least sleep a while before you have another go at the chocolates. So I guess I'll just have to help."
"I'm deeply grateful, Spike. But I wouldn't want to put you out."
A ghost of a normal leer appeared on Spike's face. "Right. Then you'll just have to put me in. "
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